when it’s time

some endings don’t come with closure.

they come quietly

like the tide slipping back to sea

after holding the shore a little too long.

you stand there,

ankles wet,

watching what you love recede,

knowing you could chase it,

but knowing, too,

it would never stay.

there is a season for holding on,

and a season for release.

and sometimes they overlap

waves meeting waves,

salt on salt.

it doesn’t mean it was all for nothing.

it means it lived its purpose.

that grief is just the echo

of something that once mattered deeply.

i used to think letting go

meant failure.

now i think it might be faith

the trust that what was beautiful

doesn’t have to last forever

to still be holy.

the tide always returns,

but never in the same shape.

and maybe that’s the gift

the way it smooths the stones,

the way it carves the coast,

the way it leaves behind

what’s ready to begin again.

so i stand in the in-between

not who i was,

not yet who i’ll be

and whisper a quiet thank you

to everything that has passed,

to everything still coming,

to everything learning how to stay gone.